Raison d'Etre
by DeTroyes
Summary: The Doctor muses about his greatest enemy.


**_This fic was originally posted on the _Alt.DrWho.Creative_ newsgroup._**   
**_For more of my offbeat fanfiction, check out my homepage [The End of the Phoenix][1]._**

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This one is yet another short piece of experimental writing, and was inspired by a recent viewing of the William Hartnell serial "The Daleks". As usual, comments and constructive criticism is appreciated, flamers get (one, two, three, everybody now!) EX-TER-MIN-A-TED. 

--DBK 

***** 

Raison d'Etre 

***** 

It's all my fault, really. 

You see, no one knew about them until I came along. Well, that's not strictly true. I vaguely remember coming across a minor, quick footnote about them in my Academy days. But at that time, they were just a curiosity; a failed species that had maneuvered themselves into an evolutionary cul-de-sac, then disappeared. A minor civilization that had flared briefly before sputtering in a fit of rage into the night. Certainly, they were nowhere near as sophisticated when compared to what they've become now. 

I changed history. 

At the time, I didn't even realize I'd done so. I hadn't even recognized who they were until much later, when my memory sharpened long enough to finally identify the nagging thought that was prickling at my subconscious. When I first saw them, found their planet and their city, I thought they were a magnificent, highly advanced species worthy of my praise and support. In truth, I trusted them more than the savages in the wastelands beyond. I was blinded by my own preferences and prejudices, ones that valued science over dogma, logic and reason over mere superstition. I fell into the trap that thought highly evolved technological societies also evolved highly developed systems of ethics and morality. I could not believe that any race would exist that could be that much advanced, and yet not have the faculties of virtue that I took for granted. 

I couldn't have been more wrong. 

To this day, I still don't know what it was that set things off. Perhaps just the mere fact of me and my companions existence was enough to prompt them into inquiries about the universe around them. Or, perhaps it was a misplaced, unguarded comment that revealed more than it should have, told them that there was more to strive for than local dominance. Under the right conditions, the beating of a butterfly's wings can set in motion a distant storm; under the right conditions, a few half-forgotten, hasty words can echo to the end of time. 

I don't know. What I do know is that from there ever after, they turned their attentions away from their planet and toward the stars, and the universe has heaved ever since. The universe had not heard of them before I arrived; after I'd left, it could hardly ignore their presence. 

I first noticed something was amiss when they invaded Earth. Now you must understand, I'd traveled through Earth's history for many years prior to that, and felt I knew it fairly well. At first I was slightly mystified about how I could have missed something as historically important as a successful invasion and occupation. Again it was only later, when I had time to reflect, that the obvious answer occurred to me: I hadn't been aware of it, because in fact it actually hadn't "happened" before. Earth's timeline had no mention of them as a race inimical to it, because in the original timeline they'd never been a threat. 

Somehow, I'd changed history. 

Somehow, I'd set a minor, nearly unknown race on a march of madness across the universe. I'd given them the reason to export their hatred and evil to countless victims, and I'd done so without ever once realizing the consequences of my actions. Haughtily, I'd thought I was in control, and not once did I recognize my arrogance for what it truly was. 

My greatest blunder. 

All the planets destroyed, all the beings killed, all the cities in flames. My fault. All the hate, all the anger, all the rage unleashed. My fault. All the blood spilled, all the anguish cried, all the hurt that will never be resolved. My grievous fault. 

And yet, once I was given the chance to correct my error. Their fate was held in my hands, their destiny reduced to two live wires a finger's width apart. I could have changed it all, brought it all back to the way things were. Good friends would have survived, loving fathers would be returned to their daughters, my own history would shift and restructure. But I hesitated, unable to finish. You see, by then the universe had changed, and my enemies had become integral to its fragile structure. Different beings, different cultures, had sprung up to replace the ones lost. By making one correction, I was condemning those worlds to the very same non-existence my original error had caused. Which was right? To set time back on it's original course, or to allow an atrocity to continue so that others might live? Was the act of correcting the error as much a wrong as the error itself? Can a wrong even be corrected by committing the same action that had led to it being a wrong in the first place? 

I couldn't answer that, and in some ways I still can't. In the end, I compromised: I slowed their advance but did not destroyed them, and in my mind vowed to continue fighting to my dying days. 

And so, there you have it. Why I still oppose them, why I still continue the fight against them. For as long as I live I will be their nemesis, their Bringer of Death. The one who will stop their plans, no matter what it takes. No matter how long. 

To atone for my moment of arrogance. 

That is the penance I must pay, for my sins. 

--DBK   
30 April 2000 

NOTE:   
Although it is never specifically stated, this work was written more or less with the 6th Doctor in mind. 

   [1]: http://www.enteract.com/~detroyes/teotp/teotp.html



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